“No,” she said sternly, “you are not a coward. The first comments Lord Stanhope’s guests will make about you is that you are too common to master the quadrille. They will dismiss you immediately as unworthy. So you must get out there with swaggering confidence, look straight in their faces, and shove your gracefulness down their throats.”
Gideon laughed. His little kitten was sounding like a tigress.
She tipped her chin up proudly. “You must show them all up. Oh, was that too bloodthirsty of me?”
He laughed again. “Perhaps the littlest bit.”
She shook her head and sighed. “I do not want them to beat you down. I hate cruelty, and they will be so cruel to you if given the slightest opening. Shall we continue?”
He nodded.
If Berry wanted him to be a bloody hopping rabbit, then so be it.
He almost fell to his knees in relief when she declared success and moved on to the waltz. “This dance is perhaps the most important because it is just you and your partner, and any mistakes cannot be hidden or blamed on anyone else. Since the man leads, any false steps from you or your partner will be attributed to you.”
“Got it,” Gideon said, knowing this was his battlefield and he held all the advantage. Berry might have danced the waltz before, but never with him.
He knew just how to hold her and touch her. Knew how to make her follow wherever he led. The waltz was a dance of seduction, and he knew how to seduce a woman.
Berry did not stand a chance.
A blush stained her cheeks the moment he took her into his arms.
He knew he was affecting her because she began to babble, first with instructions and then with compliments. “It took me forever to learn these steps and complete the proper turns and twirls, but you caught on so quickly. Obviously, you have a natural aptitude for dancing. I fear I have two left feet.”
No, he had an aptitude for seduction.
Berry was too innocent to realize what she was experiencing was passion. It had her completely out of sorts.
Miranda arched an eyebrow as she played the waltz on the pianoforte, obviously warning him to stick his prowess back in his breeches and just dance.
She was right. What he was doing to Berry was not fair. She was a kitten. He was a big, bad dragon.
But he was not unaffected, either. Bolts of lightning shot through him as he held Berry in his arms.
He never wanted to let her go.
His heart was pounding and fire tore through him.
She was talking to him, but he hardly heard a thing for the hot roar of blood rushing through his veins and clogging his ears.
Blessed saints.
He would ride through the jaws of death to hold Berry in his arms like this every night of his life.
“Are you listening to me?” she asked, frowning when he did not immediately respond.
He nodded. “We move in a circle.”
“And?”
“Step forward with the left foot. Then a step to the side with the right foot. Then bring the left foot even with the right. Isn’t this what I was doing?”
“Yes,” she admitted. “I did not think you were listening. You seemed a thousand miles away just now.”
“I am right here.” Beside her, where he ached to belong. “What’s next?”
“Then we step backward with the right foot. Then to the side with left foot. And bring the right foot to the left. This completes the box and we start over again.”
